Mirages
by AliasCWN
Summary: Hitch is alone and seeing mirages.


**Mirages**

By: AliasCWN

"Jeroba, from the Dipodidae family, rodents found throughout North Africa and Asia. Charming little creatures, aren't they?"

"Can you eat them?"

"I wouldn't suggest you try. You would use way too much energy trying to catch one. They are very fast and they can jump up to three feet in one leap. Their hearing is excellent and their night vision is much better than yours."

"I guess that means no breakfast then." Hitch sighed. Moffitt laughed at the comment but Hitch wasn't kidding.

"Thanks for the lesson Doc." The sound of his own voice shocked Hitch. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. When he spoke, Moffitt disappeared, leaving him alone again. "Thanks for the company Doc." Hitch whispered past cracked, dry lips.

He watched the rat-like jerboa leap among the rocks looking for a new place to hide. Hitch had dug it out of its burrow when he dug a hole under the rock to crawl into to get out of the sun. He looked up at the bright orb and groaned; it wasn't even noon yet and he was exhausted from his travels.

Crossing the desert during the day was trying at the best of times. Add in the fact that he was on foot and his chances dropped dramatically. Consider that he had no food or water, and that he was injured, and you could lower his chances even more. If that wasn't bad enough, you could also take into consideration that he was unarmed and being hunted by human predators. That didn't even account for all the predators that nature had running around in the desert.

Consider all of that and things looked pretty grim. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned American boys were not supposed to end up lost and alone on the North African desert. Unfortunately for Hitch, things didn't always work out the way intended.

Take the raid on the German camp two nights before for instance. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, he and the others would have gone in, located the German officer they were told to capture, and gotten out of there clean. Going in had gone just fine, at least at first.

Troy was ahead of him, leading the way to the tent where their target was sleeping. The sergeant hadn't been happy that the tent was located right in the middle of the camp but, headquarters wanted the officer, and they wanted him right away. Troy had decided to grab him before he and his escorts reached the more protected shelter of a German base.

Hitch had guarded his back as he entered the tent and subdued the German officer. That part had gone exactly as planned. Troy had managed to carry their target out of his tent and to a row of vehicles parked nearby. Pausing to shift the weight of his burden, Troy had been spotted by a guard who had just happened to glance back after passing them by.

It was Hitch's job to cover Troy until he could get away with their target. Slipping out of the shadows, Hitch had tried to silence the guard before he woke the camp. That was where things really went bad.

Hitch was six foot one and one hundred eighty-five pounds of muscle. He was young and in good shape. He had commando training and plenty of experience in taking out enemy sentries. Only this time he was out-muscled.

The German sentry had a good two inches on him. At six foot three, the German had longer arms and a good seventy pound advantage. And like Hitch, he was young and fit.

Letting out a bull-like roar, he had charged at Hitch, swinging his rifle like a club. Hitch had ducked it and hit the German in the midsection with a fist. He'd felt the shock all the way up his arm to his shoulder. His first thought had been that he had run into stone walls that had more give. Determined to buy Troy time, Hitch had swung his rifle butt, hoping to catch the sentry in the jaw. The German had ducked and hit Hitch in the ribs with a fist that felt like a hammer.

Hitch had staggered backward, gasping for air. The German had swung again and Hitch had twisted out of the way. The blow had glanced off of his ribs, knocking him off balance. The next one had connected solidly, jarring him all the way to his toes.

Using the edge of his hand, Hitch had tried to chop the German on the side of the neck. The blow had landed but it only seemed to enrage the big German even more. Dodging another of the hammer blows, Hitch had kicked his opponent in the side of the knee, taking his leg out from under him. As the sentry fell he had reached out with his long arms and grabbed at Hitch, knocking his weapon out of his hands. Hitch had pulled free and twisted away.

By then the entire camp had been awake and rushing toward the fighting pair. Hitch had ducked as the German reached for him and tried to slip between two of the vehicles. Another guard had been rushing toward him from the other side, forcing him to turn back. In hindsight, Hitch realized that he should have kept going. The new guard had been smaller than his current opponent and still half asleep.

The first guard had met him as he turned back, hitting him in the midsection with one of his massive fists. Hitch had let the momentum carry him away from the angry giant. He had fallen against the nearest vehicle, fighting to breathe.

A huge hand had grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip and twisted. Hitch had cried out as pain shot up his arm to his shoulder. The giant had twisted again, drawing another cry from his victim.

The rest of the camp had cheered as Hitch's world threatened to go black. The German had twisted his trapped arm again, forcing him up against the side of the vehicle. Using his arm as leverage, the German had slammed him repeatedly into the solid metal.

Letting his body go slack, Hitch had faked weakness in hopes that the big guy would release his arm. The trick worked, the grip loosened, allowing Hitch to put his back to the vehicle. He had hit the German with his good arm, giving it all of the power that he had left. The German barely grunted at the blow, laughing as he stepped toward Hitch. A huge fist connected had with Hitch's temple and everything had gone black.

The next thing he remembered was waking up with a terrific headache and the bright sun in his face. There was a lot of activity around him as the Germans prepared to resume their journey. They ignored him as they ate their breakfast and packed up their camp.

Once everything was ready, his opponent from the night before had approached him with a grin. Hitch had taken satisfaction in the knowledge that while he had lost the fight; his opponent had not escaped unscathed. The big German was sporting a black eye and a swollen jaw that made his smile look crooked. Granted, Hitch had gotten the worst of it, but the German would be hurting a little too.

Leaning down to peer into his face, the German had examined Hitch like one would appraise a mule he was considering for purchase. Hitch had turned his face away from the man's bad breath, rolling his eyes at the smell. Thinking that Hitch was afraid of him, the big man had laughed, earning him a glare from the prisoner.

The big guy had pushed him to the side and reached down to unlock the handcuffs holding him to the halftrack. Then, with one pull, he had lifted Hitch to his feet. In the daylight his massive muscles clearly bulged under the sleeves of his shirt.

They had handcuffed his hands behind his back and thrown him into the rear of one of the halftracks. His injured arm had swelled and the cuff had bitten in painfully. They hadn't fed him then or later when they stopped for lunch.

At their lunch stop they did give him a few sips of water, not enough to quench his thirst, but enough to keep him alive. Hitch had spent the day wondering what they had planned for him. No one had asked him any questions. There was no doubt that the officer had been missed; he was too important for his disappearance to be overlooked.

When the Germans stopped for the night he had been cuffed to the halftrack again. This time, because his arm was now swollen to twice its normal size, they cuffed him by one wrist. Again he was ignored as they set up their camp. Hitch had dozed off and on as his headache allowed. Between the throbbing in his head and the pain shooting up his arm whenever he moved it, sleep had been hard to come by and restless when it came.

Two German soldiers did bring him another drink of water and a small slice of bread to eat after they had finished their own meals. He was allowed to use his good arm to eat before being cuffed again. He had leaned back against the tread of the halftrack and watched the camp settle for the night.

He had managed to doze off and get a little bit of sleep before someone had kicked his foot. He'd jerked awake and bit back a groan of pain. He had stared up bleary-eyed at the German officer who had stood over him.

The officer had leaned down and asked Hitch a question in German.

"I don't speak German." Hitch had managed to answer through dry, cracked lips. The officer had said something else in German but Hitch had just repeated his explanation. "I don't speak any German."

A sergeant had made a remark that had made all of the soldiers around them laugh. Hitch had noticed how the sergeant had watched him. The officer had appeared angry as the sergeant explained something to him. He had barked an order that had sent all of the other soldiers scurrying to be somewhere else. The officer had spoken to Hitch again but he had only looked confused.

Shouting "Bah!" the officer had stormed away, leaving Hitch alone with the sergeant. The sergeant had studied Hitch for several minutes before speaking to him softly. He had sounded almost concerned for his well-being. Hitch had been very confused and he had allowed it to show. The sergeant, apparently convinced that the prisoner spoke no German, left him alone.

The camp had gotten quiet as the soldiers sought their bedrolls. Hitch had shivered as the wind picked up strength. As darkness had fallen, the wind had become a storm.

Hitch had shifted his body closer to the halftrack to hide his actions. Ever since meeting an MP who had an uncle who was a magician, Hitch had carried a lock pick sewn to the inside of his belt in the back. Pete, the MP, had stressed that you needed to keep your tools close at hand if you wanted to escape from locked handcuffs. His uncle's specialty had been escaping from locked boxes and handcuffs. Pete had taught Hitch and Tully all of the tricks that his uncle had taught him. Hitch considered meeting Pete a really lucky break. Their friendship had started in the hospital while they both recovered from injuries and had continued even after both had been released.

Hitch had removed the small piece of metal from his belt and used it to pick the lock on the handcuff. It hadn't been easy; his right arm had protested even the smallest movement. His swollen fingers had dropped the pick more than once, forcing him to feel around for it in the dark. Several times the guard had passed as he had worked. Hitch had pretended to be asleep until he was alone again. Once the lock had clicked open he had waited for his chance. Keeping his eyes closed, he had waited as the guard walked past.

The wind was still blowing strong, stirring up sand in a small dust storm. The air was thick with the fine particles. In the dark the dust obscured everything more than a few feet away. Believing that the storm was his best chance, Hitch had waited for the guard to pass again before making his move. Once the sentry had vanished into the darkness, Hitch had made his break. He had crawled around the halftrack and between the next two. Rising, he had half run, half staggered out into the open desert.

If anyone shouted when they noticed him gone, he never heard them. The whipping wind had carried away any sound. He had stumbled along, deaf to all but the howling wind and blinded by the sand. Hurt and unarmed, he was alone, but free.

He didn't know how long he had walked, or in which direction; for all he knew he had been walking in circles. All he had known for certain was that he had needed shelter and rest. He hadn't known if the Germans were searching for him or not, he'd known that they would have trouble finding him. The storm had covered his trail completely. He had doubted that they would take the time. They hadn't asked him any questions but he had been certain that once they had reached the German base they would have found someone who spoke English to question him. Hitch had kept walking.

The Rat Patrol had been assigned to all of the bases in the area over the past few months. That meant that he had information on each base, information that the Germans could use. Determined to keep that information from them, he had tried to cover any trail he had made after the storm had blown over.

With the arrival of morning, he had kept an eye out for the Germans but he hadn't seen any sign of them. Gradually the desert had taken its toll until he was seeing mirages and getting careless. The long line of tracks behind him would lead anyone straight to him.

The one thing that had kept him going, the one thing that had given him hope, was knowing that the Rat Patrol would not stop looking for him until they found him. He knew that they had probably been forced to take the target back to Allied headquarters before they could launch a rescue. It would have taken them an entire day to get there and back. All of that had taken place two nights and a day ago, meaning that they were probably already on their way back. All he had to do now was survive another day or two. Piece of cake. Hitch laughed, already feeling the effects of the lack of food and water on his body. Dehydration was affecting his mind, making him see mirages. The tracks he had left behind for the last mile or two were crooked from weaving back and forth on his feet.

The little jerboa finally found another hole it could use as a burrow. Ducking inside, it hid from the sun and the heat, leaving Hitch alone again.

"Hey Doc, I could use some company." Hitch whispered the words into the air around him, knowing that the British sergeant wasn't really there. Even knowing that the image was only in his mind, it had still been a comfort. "Hey, I'm not particular; any one of you would be welcome." He turned his head to look around but none of his friends appeared to talk to him. Closing his eyes, he decided to rest before trying to go any further.

The jeep in the distance wavered in the heat rising off the sand. 'A jeep is a nice mirage.' he said to the empty air. 'Maybe one of Tully's dancing girls would be nice. I wonder why I never see any dancing girls performing on the dunes.' He sprawled onto his back and closed his eyes, trying to picture a pretty girl dancing across the sand. The sun had moved and the small bit of shade he had made by the rock was gone. He didn't have the energy to dig another hole to offer protection so he turned his back to the sun and tried to endure.

He opened his eyes to see Tully bending over him. "Hey." He mumbled tiredly. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"Any time buddy." Tully answered with his softest smile.

"Don't disappear just yet; I need some sleep but I want to talk to you when I wake up. Will you still be here when I wake up?"

The hazy Tully nodded. "I'll be here, don't worry, just go to sleep."

"Okay." Hitch whispered, closing his eyes again. "Don't go away."

The cool cloth on his face startled him, it felt so real. He sighed in relief, savoring the feeling for as long as it lasted. When it disappeared he groaned in disappointment. A moment later he felt it again and this time he opened his eyes.

Tully was still there, smiling as he held the cool cloth in place.

"Hey Sarge, he's awake."


End file.
